Had not the honor to e’en anger fate.
One day, however, that by mis’ry wrung,
I wearied heaven with my fierce complaint,
A light descended from on high, that filled
My bosom with its radiance, and inspired
My lips to bless what madly they had cursed.
I yielded, grateful, to the influence,
And from my lyre the hymn of reason poured.
“Glory to thee, now and for evermore,
Eternal understanding, will supreme!